


Destiny in a coffin

by navaan



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Community: wintercompanion, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Realization, Romance, Sexual Content, Smut, Time Travel, Timey-Wimey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-08
Updated: 2010-07-08
Packaged: 2017-10-13 00:57:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/131038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/navaan/pseuds/navaan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor finds an effigy in a museum and suddenly is faced with the impossible possibility of Jack's death. It makes him think about what Jack really means to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Destiny in a coffin

**Author's Note:**

> Set after Season 3 of NewWho and somewhere at the beginning of the second Torchwood season (somewhere after Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang).  
> A very big thank you to the wonderful [**pluto**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/pluto) who did a great job on short notice. Written for the [**wintercompanion**](http://community.livejournal.com/wintercompanion) lj community Summer Holidays challenge 2.

The Doctor loved museums. Walking through a museum brought back so many memories. It was like sifting through a photo album showing all the different stages of his life. It reminded him that life was so much more than a wicked game and of his own place in the universe and its history, a history he always experienced out of sequence.   
   
He had been travelling alone for a while now, and it was time to get back on track. After all, he had lost a whole year to imprisonment, even if the year had never happened to the rest of the universe. He had been drifting without purpose for longer than was good for him. A visit to one of the universe's oldest (at least as seen from a 62nd century perspective) museums had seemed like the best way to get back on track and ground himself.    
   
It wasn't surprising to come across things that he knew, artefacts that had belonged to him at one time or another.  Some evoked the memories of past adventures, of old friends. It was an altogether different experience, however, to suddenly find himself face to face _with_ an old friend. The Doctor stared into the handsome face of Jack Harkness.    
   
Jack looked exactly the way he had looked when they had last said good-bye not too long ago.  
   
Only this Jack, wasn't Jack at all. It was an effigy on top of a stone sarcophagus. Cold, lifeless marble. Dead. It chilled the Doctor to the core.   
   
He stood there all frozen until one of the guards asked him to step back. Without putting up a fuss, he stepped away.

“Are you all right, sir? You look a little pale.”  
   
“Just a little dizzy.” He brushed it off. “I should probably eat something.” But he couldn't take his eyes off of the stony face that was so much like that of his friend.  
   
Just last week he had said goodbye to Jack in Cardiff. To a Jack that was very much alive and breathing. A Jack that had felt very much alive and  uncomfortably immortal. He stepped closer to the sarcophagus again- The effigy was intact, but the rest of the sarcophagus wasn't in a very good condition. Whole chunks were missing. No remains were resting here. Not anymore, at least.  
   
That was a small relief.  
   
He looked at the meagre information given on the hologram tag in front of the case and tried to memorize it. The age estimation, the find spot, the conclusions of archaeologists. It didn't tell the Doctor anything significant. Not yet. But if he knew this stuff, maybe it would give him the right amount of information when it was needed.  
   
The tag gave no name for the grave's former occupant, only offered speculation that the man was presumed to have been nobility, a ruler, a war chief.  The Doctor estimated that the effigy must be 11th dynasty, Magorian. The human colonies there had been cut of from the Empire for nearly two thousand years and relapsed into a culture very close to that of the Earth's Middle Ages until they had been “rediscovered” by their own people somewhere around the 58th century. He didn't remember the details.  
   
The guard was still looking at him critically. The Doctor looked up at him, gave him a faint smile and reluctantly retreated to the Tardis.  
   
For hours he let her drift in the vortex, holing himself up in the library. He hadn't spent a lot of time in there since his regeneration. Since the war, if he was to be honest. There was just too much of Gallifrey there and it was still too soon to face all that. His first impulse had been to read up on the Magorian colonies. Now he was just sitting in an indecently comfortable arm chair, thinking. Thinking and hiding.  
   
He wasn't thinking about the effigy. He was thinking about what to do next. Should he investigate? Should he stay away? Would he meddle with Jack's time line if he ventured out to figure out what this meant?  
   
He did not want to risk that, but the unease he felt wouldn't let him just forget about it either. Even hours later Jack's dead stone face kept flashing before his eyes at the most inopportune moments. The Doctor didn't understand why it upset him so much. He'd had to deal with death so often that moving on had become like a game to him and repression had turned into his second nature. No one had actually died around him this time, and maybe that made it harder to come to terms with the fear that had gripped him.  
   
The possibility of death was frightening. The possible death of a friend was more than frightening. The possibility of an immortal dying was positively terrifying.  
   
The information he had didn't tell him anything conclusive. He didn't know _when_ it would happen in Jack's personal time line. It could be millennia from Jack's present, it could be in a few months. Time travel was confusing like that. But now that he knew that _something_ would happen to Jack in a certain time period on a certain planet, how could he just ignore it?  
   
And when had he been ever this unsettled in the face of a death he hadn't witnessed?  
   
Suddenly he remembered the impossibility of it all. After all Jack was a fact. What could ever kill a fact?  
   
He had felt Jack dying and coming back to life on the Valiant, over and over again. He'd suspected the Master had never tired of killing Jack, _because_ he had known how the Doctor would feel about it. It had been horrible to know what Jack must have suffered for no other reason than knowing him. But all of them had known that Jack would come back to life every time. Still, the Doctor had feared that the other Time Lord would find a way to change that, take the life Rose had given away. In the end it had been the Master's lifeless form he'd been crying over and Jack who he had been certain would survive forever--or a very long time, at least.  
   
He had always thought there would be all the time in the world to resolve all the problems he had caused in his friendship with the Captain. When Jack had decided to not come along for another trip, the Doctor hadn't admitted it, but he had felt rejected. But since then he had convinced himself that the time hadn't been right, that there had just been too much on their plate then, that they both had so much time left, with all of time and space before them. But what if that wasn't what life had in store for them and everything ended before they ever met again?  
   
&&&  
   
Jack had been distracted and irritated all week. Coming back to Torchwood after spending a year as the immortal punching bag of a madman hadn't been easy and his team wasn't exactly making it easier for him now. He'd earned back some of their trust, but they were still slighting him at times. He didn't want to elaborate on what had happened to him, and Gwen in particular took this as a sign that Jack had priorities beyond Torchwood.  
   
In the beginning, in his first years with Torchwood, that might have been true, but now he wasn't sure anymore. The Doctor had invited him to come along and he had made the conscious decision to stay here, with his team. What more could he give? What higher priority could there be?  
   
He could have been travelling between the stars again, not bound by space and time. Instead he had chosen to come here and defend the planet that was the cradle of humanity. He had made a conscious decision  to do so, and even his former Time Agent partner couldn't find any words to tempt him to take it back. How could he, if not even the Doctor and his Tardis had been temptation enough?  
   
With a sigh he watched his team. They were starting to act like _his_ team again. But his absence had allowed them to become more independent, more confident. It was good to know that one day, they would be able to go on without him. Maybe then he could make his vortex manipulator work again and leave. But not just yet. He had a lot of time to explore all those possibilities. After all he was immortal, and had all the time in the world.  
   
For many reasons, he kept in close contact with Martha. Nobody else knew what had happened and it was nice to talk to someone who understood. It was even easy for both of them to share stories of their unrequited love for the Time Lord. Jack hadn't found it in himself to tell Martha that he didn't believe the Doctor was as oblivious he seemed sometimes. And not only because he was still pining for Rose. Jack had witnessed the Doctor and Rose together. The love the man felt had been shining through in everything he did, but even then, the Doctor hadn't exactly been the open, touchy-feely type. It was just the way he was. Distanced. Chatty and secretive at the same time.  
   
After all that he had witnessed and overheard on the Valiant he was beginning to understand why. If the Doctor and the Master were anything to go by, Gallifrey must have been an interesting place for growing up. Interesting, but by no means perfect.  It explained a lot about the man on the run he had met, but the details still remained a mystery.  
   
Martha had admitted that she was worried. She had felt that leaving the Doctor on his own wasn't a good idea, but it had been time to make a decision for herself. But why hadn't Jack gone with him?  
   
He had not admitted it. In the end he had just repeated the explanation he had given them before: There were people here that needed him. He had a responsibility he'd already betrayed for selfish reasons. Martha had accepted that and never asked again.  
   
But the longer Jack looked at his team and the longer he thought about it, the more he understood that he hadn't been telling the whole truth. He had stayed for much the same reasons as Martha. He couldn't cope with being so close to someone who would never return his feelings. The year on the Valiant had shown him that he would never be happy with the little the Doctor would be willing to offer.  
   
Admitting the truth to himself had not made it easier to take up his old life again. But he _had_ made the decision. Now he just needed the iron will to see it through without regret. His will had always been strong, had always made him go on. He was sure it wouldn't fail him. Everything would settle down soon and he would move on the way he always did. Best to face the challenge head on.  
   
Jack was still brooding that night when he returned to the Hub alone. He didn't even bother to switch on the lights. He knew his way around his head quarters well enough to move up the steps to his office without needing to. It hadn't been an overly eventful day, not by Torchwood standards, but Jack felt tired anyway. He hoped for a restful nap without dreams, when he climbed down into his small sleeping quarters and froze.  
   
“Wha...?”  
   
“Sorry.”  
   
“Sorry?” he asked incredulously, staring at the Doctor sitting cross-legged on his bed. “How did you...?”  
   
The Doctor waved his hand in a telling gesture. “Bypassed security. Didn't have any trouble. The sonic really makes life easier. Mine anyway.” He patted his chest where Jack knew the screwdriver was hidden.  “You should really have that looked into. Anybody could walk in and out of here as they please...”  
   
Jack shook his head and tried to argue.  “Not anybody. But I'll have that looked into, yeah.”  
   
“Are you really living here?” The Doctor interrupted his mumbling. “This isn't just your default sleeping arrangement, is it?”  
   
Jack sighed and gave a shrug. “I live here. And if aliens don't take over my bed, I sleep here.” He sighed again. “What are you doing here? Is something wrong? Didn't see the Tardis outside.”  
   
The Doctor looked at him, then away again, running his fingers through his tousled hair. “Ehm... I parked it a little further away. She doesn't need rift energy. It's not been that long actually.”  
   
“Okay,” said Jack, “Why are you here then?”  
   
This time the Time Lord  looked at him uneasily but did not turn away again. “I just... wanted to see you. Make sure you're all right.”  
   
The soft tone surprised Jack. “Oh? Are you checking up on all us Valiant survivors?”  
   
“No.” The answer was followed by a vigorously childish shake of the head and it made the Doctor look younger than should be possible. “No. Nothing to do with that. I just wanted to make sure you're all right.” He abruptly got off the bed. “You look tired. I'll better leave then.” He tried to step around Jack who leaned back against the ladder to block the way out. This was too weird to just let the Doctor run off without an explanation.  
   
“Why don't you stay and tell me why you were waiting for me in my bedroom, Doc. You could have waited anywhere. In fact you could have _found_ me anywhere. With me being what I am I can hardly hide from you, right?”  
   
The Doctor sighed and sat down on the bed again. “Ehm. Yeh. Would be hard for you to hide, I guess. Your presence practically screams at me.”  
   
Jack cocked his head, indicating that he was still waiting for the real explanation.  
“Actually I have no idea why I'm here. In the bedroom, I mean. I'm _here_ because I wanted to see if you had settled back in. That's all.”  
   
The Doctor's voice sounded a little flustered. In the dark Jack couldn't see him well enough to judge his expression. The way the Doctor had turned away from him, he imagined the man was blushing. But surely he was mistaken. Jack had never seen the Doctor blush. He had seen many expressions on the Doctor's face and even some he didn't want to see ever again – but blushing? No, not the Doctor.  
   
“Are you okay?” he asked tentatively. "After all that happened, I mean..."  
   
The Doctor shrugged. "Me? I'm all right. Have been busy, you know... Running and all that."  
   
He chuckled. "Yeah, I remember that part. You're still alone?"  
   
"Is this an interrogation?"  
"No. You came here to visit and now we are having a chat. Simple. We can manage that. Although we haven't managed that since we've met again. Let's try now, okay?" Jack knew he sounded cheeky.  He hoped that this would put the fidgeting Doctor a little more at ease. They hadn't really talked about anything that had happened. After the Master's death everything had been a blur and when everything had begun to settle down they'd parted ways again.  
   
He could see the man's brow furrow in the darkness. "Okay. Yes, Jack. I'm travelling alone. There was someone who wanted to come along, but it didn't work out."  
   
Jack cocked his head to the side. He wanted to ask why it hadn't worked out, but knowing all the possible reasons, he didn't want to make this harder on the Doctor. The visit may have come out of the blue, but there was certainly a reason for it. He just had to figure out what it was before the Doctor decided to vanish again.  
   
The Doctor shifted nervously on the bed. “So. How are you? Is your team okay? Saved earth, yet again?”  
   
He smiled tiredly. “Not today.”  
   
“Maybe tomorrow, eh?” The Doctor gave a short laugh. “So, life in Cardiff is fine? You don't want to leave, right? You'll stay here?”  
   
The Doctor sounded disconcertingly eager for an answer and Jack immediately thought back to the talk he'd had with Martha. _Why didn't you go with him?_ Was the Doctor here to ask him again? Was he lonely enough to come for Jack?  
   
“Ehm. Yeah, actually staying here _was_ the plan...”  
   
“Why?!” the Doctor blurted, interrupting him. He didn't sound eager at all now. “You aren't planning to leave?” He got up from the bed, standing right in front of Jack.  
He reached for Jack's arm and looked at the wrist computer. “Your Vortex Manipulator still doesn't work,” he whispered.  
   
“No, and you know it doesn't. You disabled it.”  
   
“Good,” the Doctor uttered in a low voice. Jack pulled his arm away angrily. The Doctor took a cautious step back and softly mumbled, “I'm sorry.”  
   
The Captain didn't want to get angry, so he tried to keep his voice calm. “What do you mean 'good'?” He had felt insulted when the Doctor had disabled the device, obviously not trusting him with the technology. And now he had come back to make sure he was stuck on Earth without his help? Sometimes the man could be selfish, but this? It couldn't be true.  
   
“I mean, good. You're not planning on leaving everything here behind. That's good.”  
   
Jack furrowed his brow. He didn't answer but couldn't keep from asking his own question. “Why do you care?”  
   
The Time Lord turned away from him, looking around the small chamber that he'd made his sleeping quarters some years ago. His back was very straight in his suit jacket, the only indication of tension Jack could make out in the dark. “What makes you think I don't care, Jack?”  
   
With a sinking feeling, the Captain realized that his comment had hurt the Doctor.  
   
“I should go. I shouldn't have come in the first place,” the Doctor said in a low voice. He took a step towards Jack, who was still blocking his access to the ladder.  
   
“We are really rubbish at talking,” Jack observed, not moving away. “Why is that, Doc, hm?”  
   
The Doctor stared at him, making no other move.  
   
“So, what you are telling me? You don't want me to leave here because you care about me? I don't understand what that's supposed to mean... or what brought this whole visit on.”  
   
“We are men of action.”  
   
“What?” He didn't have time to question the Doctor any further because suddenly there were cool lips pressed to his own and he was uncomfortably pressed up against the ladder behind him. A tongue softly probed along his lips and he had the fleeting thought, that the only time they had kissed had been in the face of death – and he had initiated that. He must be dreaming. He was so tired and frustrated, he must be making things up now. Or he had cracked. Delusional.  
   
The Doctor pulled away first, putting some distance between them. “I'm sorry,” he mumbled again and stepped back.  
   
That felt a lot more familiar. “You know,” Jack said softly, “I knew you had issues. Kissing is nothing to apologize for. At least not if both people involved wanted it.”  
   
The Time Lord's head snapped up abruptly, but he didn't say a word. Jack walked up to him. “In fact, if _you_ kiss _me_ like _that_ , there's no reason to apologize at all– unless you plan on running away now and not doing it again.” He deliberately stepped into the man's personal space and for a moment he saw dark eyes flash into the direction of the ladder. Carefully he placed a hand on the Doctor's cheek and made him face him again. The Doctor's eyes didn't meet his but settled on his lips and Jack didn't even have to think about what he should do next. He leaned forward, his lips touching the other man's softly, trying not to trigger the other's instincts to flee.  
   
He didn't expect the Doctor to meet him eagerly, opening his mouth and deepening the kiss right away. A hand sneaked into his hair. The touch was electrifying. He couldn't take the distance between their bodies and crushed the Doctor against his chest, one hand pressed firmly against the small of his back, the other sneaking gradually lower, caressing a firm trouser-clad buttock. The Doctor made a surprised noise into his mouth and Jack  felt a shiver run through his body. A cool hand was making its way under his shirt and he felt goosebumps rising.  
   
This was unexpected and new and thrilling. Jack tried to manoeuvre them over to the bed.  
   
The man playfully bit his lip then and they broke the kiss. “Don't be pushy,” the Doctor admonished him. His tone was lighthearted and unhurried, and it made Jack want to pin him to the bed and show him just how this was not the moment for restraint.  
   
Instead the Doctor was the one to tumble them on his narrow bed, pinning Jack down and kissing him again. He gasped when the Time Lord bit his neck and was only a little surprised when the man's lithe hands made short work of his shirt. Then suddenly the hands were gone and Jack opened his eyes. He hadn't even been aware that he'd closed them.  
   
The Doctor was sitting on Jack's legs, staring at him with half-lidded eyes. His hands were toying with the one closed button of his jacket, not at all unsure, but unhurried. It was driving Jack crazy just to watch that beautiful hand hovering over the button. He bucked his hips impatiently and the Doctor obliged. With a heated look at Jack, he slipped out of the suit jacket and pulled his shirt out of his trousers. Jack tried to sit up, to help, but the Doctor shook his head. Jack couldn't do anything but obey. He didn't even dare to blink while he watched the Doctor get rid of his shirt and then get up from the bed to slowly slip out off his trousers.  
   
To bettwer watch the procedings he sat up and his throat went dry as more of the tantalizing body was revealed.  
   
The Doctor was standing naked in front of him, all long limbs and elegant beauty. With slow and graceful movements he climbed back onto the bed. “You're still wearing too much, Jack,” he whispered, and smiled as Jack practically ripped the rest of his own clothing off of his body.  
   
“Doctor,” Jack groaned, reaching for him.  
   
“Don't speak. We really aren't good with words...” Not trusting Jack to follow that command, the Doctor leaned forward to shut him up with another searing kiss.  
   
With a regretful moan the Captain pulled back and protested:  “Stop taking it so slow, you moron. I've waited _years_ for this! I'm impatient.”  
   
The Doctor gave a soft snort. “Really? I wouldn't have noticed.” An impish smile played around his lips as he looked down at Jack's impressive erection. Then he reached down to touch it, and Jack melted into the mattress. He could feel the Doctor making his way down his body, softly nipping, kissing and teasing.  
   
Jack knew he wouldn't last long even before the Doctor's mouth descended on his cock. “Oh God,” he breathed, involuntarily bucking up again. His lover didn't complain and Jack felt bold enough to let one hand descend into the brown hair to guide his movements. He was so close already... And his lover clearly knew what he was doing.  
   
The Doctor made a humming noise in the back of his throat and Jack could only groan out a warning before he came, shuddering and quivering. When the blinding sensation of orgasm died down and he was finally able to open his eyes again, he found the Doctor snuggled up beside him, watching him with a thoughtful look. A finger trailed his own swollen lips.  
   
“That was...”  
   
The Doctor stopped him with a hand pressed against his mouth, a seductive smile plastered across his handsome features. “I know. But I'm not finished with you, yet.”  
   
It took a lot of willpower to not drift off to sleep. They'd made love twice and the Time Lord was still not feeling any signs of fatigue. But the Doctor hadn't been this comfortable in years and was not tempted to leave the bed.  
   
Jack looked positively weary and his eyelids were dropping closed now and again, before he caught himself. It made the Doctor smile fondly.  
   
“So?” Jack asked and the Doctor could only smile more brightly at his headstrong lover who refused to give in to sleep. “I've flirted with you, I've chased you before and never have you given me any sign that you were interested in me. Not like this anyway. Why now?”  
   
The Doctor sighed and snuggled deeper into Jack's pillow. He knew there was no point in avoiding this question. After all he had come here to resolve problems, not to create new ones. He coughed and mumbled: “I didn't want to wait until it was too late.”  
   
Jack's brow furrowed, then he turned to look at the Doctor. “Is this about you and the Master?” he asked, with a neutral expression. The Doctor once again admired his willpower. He knew Jack's natural reaction to a mention of the Master would be far from neutral.  
   
“No,” he answered firmly.  
   
“Oh.” Jack seemed to think that through before he asked again. “You're not dying, are you? Because I know for a fact I'm not the one in any mortal danger.” He chuckled, although it didn't sound too happy.  
   
The Doctor couldn't answer. When he tried, his voice caught in his throat.  
   
Jack's frown deepened. “You think I'm dying? Are you telling me you only slept with me because I'll die tomorrow or something?” There was a barely concealed anger in his words, and his whole body stiffened beside the Doctor.  
   
The Doctor sat up, rubbing at his neck nervously. When he looked down again, Jack's eyes were still flashing dangerously. He took a deep breath and told the story of the museum, all the while waiting for Jack to lash out at him. “I'm sorry, Jack. I didn't come here to, you know... I just thought maybe it was time to reconnect. And then maybe in the future we could travel together again.” He held up a hand, when Jack wanted to say something. “I know, I know. I'm selfish and insensitive and I always keep people at a distance... But they die. Everything around me dies. All the time. And then there's you. And I thought I knew you would be the one person who would never die on me. With you I had time...” He trailed off. He didn't know how to explain it. It sounded screwed up when he said it out loud. With a bowed head he steeled himself for Jack's anger.  
   
But suddenly there was a hand stroking up and down his back. “I know how you're feeling. About everything around you dying, I mean. If anyone can understand that part, it's me. Why didn't you come to talk...?”  
   
“I came to talk!” he blurted, exasperated.  
   
“You waited in the bedroom!” Jack shouted back.  
   
“Waiting in someone's bedroom is not a proposition, Jack.”  
   
Jack chuckled. “It isn't? Why did we end up in bed then?”  
   
The Doctor let himself fall back beside the Captain, accidentally hitting his elbow against his ribs. “We're men of action. We're not good with words...”  
   
“So, all I would have had to do is force you to really talk about emotional, relationship stuff and...?”  
   
The Doctor looked at him with warning in his eyes and they fell silent. They cuddled together, not speaking, both caught up in their own thoughts. Then Jack softly whispered in his ear. “So? What is this then? Relationship? Casual sex? A game?”  
   
“I told you how you'll die and that's what you're worried about?” the Doctor asked uneasily.  
   
“In fact, you haven't told me how I'll die. All you know is how I might be buried one day. There's a difference. Don't avoid the question!”  
   
“Both of us are not really the domestic type...” he started awkwardly.  
   
Jack chuckled again. “Yeah. So? We can't have love without domesticity? That's stupid. Don't talk like a 21st century human.”  
   
“So, what then?”  
   
Jack gave him a suggestive smile. “I'll take anything you're ready to give me and we make up the rules as we go. You know? All fun and games.”  
   
He considered this for a short moment then nodded. Jack had probably expected an argument because his expression turned to one of surprise before he schooled his features into a loving smile. They snuggled against each other and although the Doctor didn't feel tired, he enjoyed the warmth of the human body beside him enough to let himself drift. Jack's breath evened out and the Doctor expected him to fall asleep very soon. His hand was stroking through the Time Lord's hair, but the motions were slowing.  
   
“Before I fall asleep,” Jack mumbled, “I should tell you about Magoria.” The Time Lord opened his eyes and raised his head to watch Jack. “I was 29, cocky young time agent with a job to do... Seemed like a game of hide and seek, really. Went a little awry. Possibly because I hit it off with the war chief's daughter. Or his son...”  
   
“Or both of them?” the Doctor interjected helpfully.  
   
Jack just nodded. “I had to fake my death to get out of the mob's grasp and _tada_! faked funeral and all. You see?” The Captain hadn't stopped stroking through his hair and the Doctor could feel the tension returning to his body. Jack was clearly expecting him to be angry.  
   
The Doctor snuggled back into the pillow. “Good.”  
   
There was a short moment of confused silence. “Good?”  
   
“Good. You're not going to die any time soon as far as we know. I thought it was your destiny to die there, but that's already in the past. I can sleep better now.” Demonstrating this, he snuggled closer and closed his eyes.  
   
“Maybe it was your destiny to find the effigy...”  
   
He made a dismissive noise.   “I don't believe in chance, Jack, but sometimes it's nothing more than that.”  
   
“Yeah,” Jack said, his voice already sleepy and drifting off, “and maybe it _was_ destiny.”  
   
The Doctor knew it was pointless to argue with his sleepy, headstrong lover. And why should he even try? Destiny was nothing more than an interpretation of a chain of events – and in the end, so was chance. Life was always playing games with the living.


End file.
